Those Poor Unfortunate Souls
by CluelessKitten
Summary: We played the Gallery's game, and we lost. We were forgotten. But we did exist. In fact, we're still here...
1. Hold My Hand

**Disclaimer** : I do not own Ib

 **Author's Note** : Not everyone gets to be a peacefully sleeping portrait in the halls of Guertena's Exhibit.

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"Please! Somebody help me!"

She threw her fist at the wall, kicked, scratched and threw herself against it ,but it wouldn't budge! Her voice was already sore from screaming. It was dark, and cramped, and damn it if she wasn't scared. How did she even get into this twisted hellhole? She just wanted to go to the gallery opening! That was all! She'd never done anything to deserve this, so why-!?

"Please," she whimpered, falling to her knees and leaning her head against the wall. Fat tears rolled down her face, and she sniffled. "Please, somebody … _anybody_ …"

There wasn't even enough room to crouch as she sobbed.

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She needed to get out.

She needed to get _out_.

She _needed_ to get _out_.

 _She needed to get out._

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There were voices on the other side of the wall. Voices, breathing, steps, _life_.

 _Getoutgetoutgetoutgetoutgetoutgetoutgetoutgetoutgetoutgetoutgeoutgetoutgetoutgetoutgetoutgetoutgetoutgetoutgetoutgetoutgetoutgetoutgetoutgetoutgetoutgetoutgetoutgetoutgetoutgeoutgetoutgetoutgetoutgetoutgetoutgetoutgetoutgetout_

Her hand shot out at the wall again – and burst through. It hurt, damn, it _hurt_! A wild scream tore out of her lips, but she gritted her teeth and flailed around for anything she could grab. Anything, anything at all-

Gotcha! Her fingers wrapped around something slender and warm. It was smooth and soft, but it would have to do-

With a sharp yank, it was gone. The thing she had held – warm, smooth, soft – was just … _gone_.

 _Why_ -?!

No, no, no, no, no, no, _no, no, no, no, NOOOOOO!_

She groped blindly again, panic rising up her throat, anything would do – _ack_! Something was hurting her! She drew her arm back in, cradling the damaged limb.

The hole in the wall promptly closed up again.

No, please, no…

She threw herself at the wall, screaming, screaming, screaming, until the silence crowded in again. Next time, _next time_ , she would get a stronger grip. Next time, she _would_ get out.

Next time.

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There were no more words…

No more names or faces…

No hunger, no thirst, not even pain…

Anything and everything that ever made her 'her' had already long gone…

Still, she just knew…

…That she needed to get out.

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	2. Dolls and Games

**Disclaimer** : I do not own Ib

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Running, panting, gasping, heart racing. She almost stumbled on her feet, but managed to keep going.

"Mama! Papa! _Help_!" she shrieked. A big doll monster with blue skin was chasing after her and she didn't even know where she was, and _where were her parents_?

She wanted to go _home_! She didn't even want to go to the museum, and it was _scary_ here!

"AH!" She fell flat on her face, and … _it was holding onto her ankle_! Smiling at her with glowing red eyes, it gripped her tight and started dragging her back.

"No, stop it!" she shrieked. Tears pricked her eyes, and she let them flow down her face. "Let me go!" She kicked the thing's hand, but it didn't seem to notice at all. There wasn't even anything on the floor to hold on to. "Stop it! Stop it, stop it, stop it, stop it, _stop_!"

" _We're going to have lots of fun together_."

The little hairs on her arms and the back of her neck stood on end at the sound of the thing's thick, gravelly voice.

"NO!" she screamed. "Mama! _Papa_! Help me, _please_! _Ahhhhhh_!"

The monster dragged her back, down the halls and through the rooms they'd run through in their chase. Her ear-piercing screams echoed all the way, even as she kept on kicking and scratching anything and everything she could reach. Her voice grew sore, her struggles weakened, and tears pricked her eyes.

Wouldn't _anybody_ come and save her?

Eventually, they reached the doll's room once more. The door shut behind them, and the halls of the Fabricated World fell silent once more.

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She was smaller now. A _lot_ smaller than before. Everything towered over her, but somehow, that was okay – she could climb real fast and be in and out of a place in just a second. The others who lived in the Gallery – they called it a Gallery, anyway, she never could figure out why – weren't so scary anymore. In fact, she rather liked the girl in green.

Down the hallway, there was a small rustle, and she watched a tall figure walk past. She peeked out at him from her shady little corner. Ah, yes, she knew him – he and the other one were new playmates. The new ones always did make such a fuss, always trying to … leave…

And go … where, exactly?

"Mama … Papa …" she murmured, the words rising up and out of her before she could think.

Who were those people, again? She never could recall anymore.

But maybe the tall person could explain. He looked like a nice man, after all, and he explained lots of things to the girl he ran around with. She liked his hair – such a pretty shade of purple! She never knew hair could be purple. Maybe he would like to play a game, too.

Quickly, as his back was turned, she lay herself against the wall with some hastily scribbled words above her head.

Making new friends was always so nice.

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 **Author's Note** : Remember how many dolls were in that room?


	3. No Escape

**Disclaimer** **:** I do not own Ib

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"Ib!" Gary shouted from inside the painting. He kneeled down, reaching his hand out to her. "Don't be afraid, I'll help you through."

Ib clutched her rose, her eyes flashing from her new friend to her mother.

" _Ib_!" Mother snapped as Gary once again said her name. The look on her face was positively furious. "You _know_ you're not supposed to go with strangers! Now, come with me and we'll find your father."

Ib flinched but shook her head, her breath hitching as her mother began stepping closer. Every instinct inside her screamed to do as she'd said, but-

Who had accompanied her through the Gallery? Who had cared for her to the best of his ability during that time? And in this crazy place, who was likelier to be real?

Well. That was it, then.

Turning away from the angry woman, Ib ignored the twinge in her chest as she grabbed Gary's hand and jumped into the painting with him. The frame's glass reappeared with a soft _click_ , preventing anything else from entering.

The hallway fell silent and its lights dimmed as the female illusion faded away. The game was over.

Ib and Gary's souls were now part of the Fabricated World painting.

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 **Author's Note** : Thank you for reading this fic!

I really didn't mean to write another chapter for this, but the idea for it just popped into my head and wouldn't go away. I'm not so sure about the way I've written it, though. If you could, would you please tell me what you think of it? Or how it might be improved?


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